The Poetical Works of George Barlow In Ten [Eleven] Volumes |
 | I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
 | XI. |
|
|
|
| I. |
| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
|
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
| XVI. |
| XVII. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 | The Poetical Works of George Barlow |  |
48
XIX. AUTUMN LEAVES
What do the red leaves whisper?
What do the wild winds say,
When they wail and roar o'er hill and shore
On a stormy autumn day?
“The past was sweet with flowers,
And beautiful was June;
But now on leafless bowers
Looks down the lonely moon.”
What do the wild winds say,
When they wail and roar o'er hill and shore
On a stormy autumn day?
“The past was sweet with flowers,
And beautiful was June;
But now on leafless bowers
Looks down the lonely moon.”
What do our sad hearts utter?
What do our spirits cry,
When autumn hues at length suffuse
Vale, hill, and wood, and sky?
“Love's summer heart was tender,
But summer glory goes,
And Love forgets the splendour
He once loved in the rose.”
What do our spirits cry,
When autumn hues at length suffuse
Vale, hill, and wood, and sky?
“Love's summer heart was tender,
But summer glory goes,
And Love forgets the splendour
He once loved in the rose.”
| The Poetical Works of George Barlow | |